


Like Two Taxis on Broadway

by ACatWhoWrites



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Future Fic, Getting Back Together, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Past Relationship(s), Relationship Negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 19:14:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20345287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACatWhoWrites/pseuds/ACatWhoWrites
Summary: Jongin and Kyungsoo have loved each other for a long while. They're finally willing and able to do something about it after a chance encounter on a late-night flight home.





	Like Two Taxis on Broadway

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** Everlasting #16  
**Warnings:** n/a  
**Author’s note:** Titles are the hardest thing to write. This one comes from Rear Window: "When two people love each other, they come together - WHAM - like two taxis on Broadway." I don't think I got the feeling I was aiming for in this, but it was a hit-and-miss writing kinda deal. Stuff happened, and I couldn't focus on this. I think it's still enjoyable, though.

From city to city to connection to overnight hotel stay to a red-eye back home, Jongin is racking up the frequent flyer miles on his credit card and seeing a lot of the world he never thought he would, but it’s literally all in a day’s work. There’s rarely time to go out and enjoy the new places he’s in, unless a client is treating him to a tour or points out the sights on the way to dinner.

He’s on his way home and looking forward to staying in Seoul for a few weeks. How Jennie, his secretary, is still awake and fully functioning is amazing and a mystery to Jongin, who falls asleep in the lounge waiting for their plane to board and then again once they’re seated.

“Sir...Jongin, your seat belt.”

Jongin wearily rolls his head to the opposite shoulder but obeys with a sleepy pout. “We’re not even moving, yet.”

“You’ll fall asleep within ten minutes and need to be belted for takeoff.” Not that she wouldn’t take care of it, if need be. They don’t have strict boundaries as boss and employer. Jennie was even Jongin’s plus one at his friend’s wedding.

And she’s right, as usual. Resituated more comfortably in his seat, Jongin tucks his travel pillow around his neck and quickly falls in a doze. Jennie closes the window shade and starts another episode of the drama she binges when not working. 

Flight attendants walk up and down the aisles, helping passengers and retrieving pillows or eye shades. They walk through the more spacious first class to reach the front, where a curtain separates the cabin from the airline employees' prep area. Jongin can feel them walk by, and he hears the ding of notifications overhead. 

No smoking. Fasten seatbelts.

Then the safety speech Jongin could recite in his sleep, after so many flights. Emergency exits are at the front, tail, and wings of the plane. Seat cushions can be flotation devices. In the event of lost cabin pressure, secure your own mask before helping others.

It’s actually somewhat soothing, and Jongin passes out for the eventual takeoff. Even Jennie’s tight grip on his arm doesn’t wake him.

They’re many miles up when he comes to again. He unbuckles his seatbelt and stretches his legs. A flight attendant is taking another passenger’s drink order from their wheeled cart. Jennie looks up from her show and offers the bag of snacks she bought at the airport.

He’s declining the offer when a deluge floods his lap.

“_What the hell—_” Jongin clutches the chair arms, watching in stupefied shock as red wine soaks into his lap. Beside him, his secretary surges to her feet, armed with a napkin and a scowl.

“What kind of service is this? Do you pour wine on all of your passengers? Your superior will be hearing from us!” A pair of businessmen agree that the “accident” was very much on purpose, but even as he’s barraged from all sides, the flight attendant stands beside Jongin, staring right at him, and Jongin finally looks up to give him a piece of his own mind.

“_Kyungsoo?_”

The man bows as whispers ripple throughout the cabin. “Hello, dear.”

Jongin catches his secretary before she can blot his crotch and takes the napkins from her fist. “I’ve got it, thank you. Please—J-Just sit down and relax, Jennie.”

“Relax? Sir, this _idiot_ intentionally spilled—”

“I know he did, but I may have deserved it.” He offers a half smile as he dabs his thighs. “We kinda used to date.” He glances up at him, quietly marvelling at how good he looks, but he really would expect nothing less. Kyungsoo’s always looked put together and amazing. The bright airline uniform is a nice change from his trademark black-on-black. “I really don’t think this was the time to act on impulse, though. Get my bag and grab some clean pants, please. My name’s on the tag.”

“I can—” He waves his secretary down again. She glowers at Kyungsoo. 

“It’s alright. I trust him.” Kyungsoo’s lips twitch, almost smiling. It just makes him look smug, but he bows and hopefully heads to the cargo hold. Jongin is already feeling a little sticky.

Jennie starts drafting an email in to the airline in both Korean and English. She’s a dedicated, headstrong person; Jongin knows he’s lucky to have her at his side. Sometimes, she reminds him of a Valkyrie, especially when in meetings. Her heels, makeup, and form-fitting dresses are her armor and shield that hide a razor-sharp mind and shrewd business sense.

But sometimes she really should back down. Better part of valor and all that. It’s been a while since she’s had a proper vacation. They did go to Venice about six months ago, but that was for work, and she’s too invested in Jongin’s schedule to weasel in downtime for herself.

Besides, this is something he actually wants to handle on his own. It’s been a long time since he saw Kyungsoo. They were in college. Kyungsoo’s birthday is only a couple days before Jongin, and when they first met, it was enough to draw them into friendship. If he’s honest, he had more than a little crush on Kyungsoo and pined after him like a lovestruck puppy, but after he had gathered the courage to ask a hypothetical “What if I asked you out?” he got caught up in work and ended up moving with the artist he apprenticed under.

He sits back, uncomfortably sitting in the remains of the wine but not wanting to stand and make more of a mess.

A lot of time has passed and been wasted, between them. Jongin could have called, texted, emailed, written a letter, _something_, but after some time, it just didn’t seem worth it to bring up their past. They met, briefly, at a hotel hosting a collection of art—some of which Jongin created—and Kyungsoo was working as manager.

They had a night or two together but didn’t really talk about _them_.

And then Jongin moved on, once again caught up with work and trying to fill the position his master vacated after a long battle with alcohol and then adapting to fulfilling his father’s position as head of an international trading company. It’s much less fun, but with the right staff, it nearly runs itself. Jongin’s more a figurehead than someone useful.

Kyungsoo returns with pants draped over his arm. “I didn’t want to wrinkle anything,” he says, smiling softly, “so I grabbed what was on top.”

Pajama pants.

With a cute all-over print of cartoon bears and pots of honey.

Jongin sighs but stands when Kyungsoo gestures to the front of the plane, where the restroom is. Instead of opening the cabin door, he pulls aside the curtain where flight attendants sit and a small kitchen is set up. Pulling the curtain shut again, he holds out his arm.

“It’s easier to move in here than in the toilet.”

And it’s not as if they’re unfamiliar with one another. Jongin’s not shy. He shrugs and drops his sticky trousers around his ankles. Sitting, he takes his pajamas—at least they’re relatively new and not filled with holes—drops both feet into the legs, and pulls them up as he stands.

Kyungsoo unabashedly watches, arms crossed over his chest. “You still do that?”

“Do what?”

Kyungsoo takes the discarded pants from the floor to the sink. “Dress yourself like a child. You’re going to hurt yourself doing that someday. What happened to your leg?” Jongin sports a large yellow bruise on the back of his right thigh, a few days old.

“Hit my desk while playing with a hackeysack.”

Kyungsoo scoffs. Opening a couple cabinets, he pours a couple things into his palm and rubs the mixture into the fabric. “Before you ask—dish soap and hydrogen peroxide. I’ll put it in a bag; by the time you land, it’ll be time to rinse it with warm water, soak it in hot, and then rinse it out again in cold.” He folds the pants and pulls a plastic bag from beneath the sink.

Jongin leans his hip against the counter and looks around the small area. He’s never seen the space between the cabin and cockpit before. It’s actually set up very efficiently. When not in use, things are stored in the walls or even in the floor, from the looks of the handles gleaming among the carpet. The galley boasts convection ovens, secured shelves of plates and mugs with boxes of tea and coffee, and a couple small refrigerators.

He still doesn’t trust airplane food, though. He and Jennie both stuff as much food into their carry-on bags as they can without paying for extra weight.

“Did you really spill wine on me on purpose?”

Kyungsoo shrugs. “Sometimes I have trouble with my balance when there’s turbulence.” The entire flight has been smooth, ever since takeoff.

“Drop wine on my crotch, get me comfortable pajamas to wear for the remainder of the flight, wash the stain from my otherwise ruined trousers…” Jongin smiles. “You’ve always been so good to me.”

Kyungsoo half-smiles. “They’re nice trousers. You look good in them. Although it’s not as though you couldn’t afford a new pair.” He seals the bag and sets it aside. “I’ll put these back into your luggage. It shouldn’t leak onto anything.”

Jongin sighs and looks at Kyungsoo. Really looks at him, for the first time. Not many men can pull off pastel mint blue and white. His hair is longer than Kyungsoo liked it to be, probably due to airline regulation. But it looks nice pushed away from his forehead. It’s no secret that the airline places a premium on their employees’ appearance, including good teeth, a clean complexion, and body proportions. Kyungsoo has it all in spades. Beneath it all is a keen intelligence and a heart of gold.

“Is Seoul your last stop?”

“I have a couple days off, actually. Then I head to Istanbul.”

“You want some company?”

“What do you think this is, the Mile High Club?” Kyungsoo spanks his buttcheek gently but firmly. “Exclusive members, only.”

“I left my wallet in my other pants.” Jongin shrugs good-naturedly. 

A stewardess passes through the curtain, blinks owlishly at Jongin, then bows and snatches a blanket from the top of the pile in a narrow closet. She leaves with a soft “_excuse me_.” 

“Are you still dating your secretaries?”

Of all topics, he has to raise one that’s kind of a sore spot for Jongin. “That was one time,” he mutters. It was nice while it lasted, but it didn’t last for long, and they couldn’t seem to just work together anymore. She left, and Jongin hired Jennie based on her recommendation.

“Not according to the tabloids. I have a friend on their staff. Should’ve seen the photos he got of you two.”

Jongin has an idea of when the photos were taken, and it was a misunderstanding. Photos are always misinterpreted when seen without context. “Gimme their name, and they can meet Jennie.”

Kyungsoo laughs. “I’m not about to get involved in a murder.” Another stewardess passes between the curtains, smiling anxiously at them with a slight bow before grabbing a couple of pillows and leaving again.

“Oh well,” Jongin sighs and pushes off the counter. “I should get back to my seat before Jennie comes hunting.”

“Jongin.” He looks up, flinches at the hand reaching for him, but is caught off-guard when it yanks his tie instead of punching him.

Kissing Kyungsoo is like a dream. Jongin stares at him a little cross-eyed from being so close, but he marvels at how much more relaxed he looks without the little line of a crease between his heavy eyebrows. He’d always look upset about something, ducking away when Jongin would poke the wrinkle. Sometimes he’d laugh; sometimes he’d scold him.

Jongin accepts the dream and closes his eyes, wrapping his arms around Kyungsoo’s torso.

Metal sliding on metal and a sharp gasp draw them both out of the little bubble they created. Jennie gapes, red-faced. “M-_Mr. Kim!_”

Kyungsoo seems unphased, maybe a bit like the cat that ate the canary, although he does step a respectful distance away.

Probably to fully enjoy Jongin’s juvenile humiliation and Jennie’s second-hand embarrassment.

“Thank you for checking on me, Jennie... I’ll rejoin you shortly.” He watches her feet leave. The curtain slides back with a metallic slither. Kyungsoo steps close again and digs his hands into Jongin’s pajama pants pockets, curling his fingers into fists.

“How long has she worked for you?”

“Jennie? About a year, why?”

“You know she’s got a crush on you.”

“...What?”

He rolls his eyes. “I should be annoyed, but on you, obliviousness looks cute.”

Jongin feels a little offended. Even his mom doesn’t call him cute anymore. “Aren’t I a little old to be considered cute?”

“You? Never.” Kyungsoo kisses his chin. “Although what’s with the whiskers? I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“I was told it makes me look distinguished.”

“Maybe at the right angle and lighting… Who told you that?”

“Jennie.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and moves to the curtain. “By the way, Jongin,” he comments softly. “I heard about your dad. I’m sorry.”

“I’d say something about all the men in my life leaving me, but it would be a little hypocritical. Thank you, though.” He doesn’t want to leave Kyungsoo just yet and stands behind the curtain.

“I’ll be staying at a hotel near the airport for a few days,” Kyungsoo says. “You have my number; use it, this time.”

“I plan on it.” He ignores the confused and condescending glances at his pajamas and rejoins Jennie. She doesn’t look at him and has let her hair out of its bun, so it falls around her face. A blanket is covering his seat, and he watches Kyungsoo resume his duties to the other passengers.

Replacing the pillow around his neck, he looks out the window on the other side of the plane. There’s still a while until they land.

He can sleep more until then.

A soft voice draws him back from the brink of slumber. “Would you like me to wake you up before we land, sir?” Kyungsoo purrs.

“A glass of wine sounds nice,” Jongin mumbles, “but no thanks.” He cracks open an eye, but maybe he imagined the butterfly-soft sensation of lips against his ear. Kyungsoo is gone, and Jongin slouches comfortably.

After a moment, he buckles his seatbelt and folds his arms over his belly.

The flight ends smoothly, although a pair of young twins have had enough of flying—they’re tired, hungry, _bored_, and just want to go home—and start screaming just before the pilot angles for the final approach.

Jennie has already arranged for a car to pick them up and drive them to the hotel. Karma wants to punish them for something, and their baggage is last to slide around the carousel. Jongin spots flight attendants saying their goodbyes and wheeling their own luggage to their next flight or out to the lines of taxis. He doesn’t see Kyungsoo and can’t help but feel a little put out.

“It’s good to be home,” he says, watching traffic out the car window. So late that it’s early, traffic moves smoothly once off airport property.

“It is.” Jennie braids her hair over her shoulder. She’s taken off her heels and has her feet tucked beside her on the seat. “How long has it been since you saw each other?”

“Kyungsoo hyung? A few years, now. Since college-ish. I got busy, and we just lost touch. I’ve missed him,” he admits.

“Would you...Should I not send that email to the airline? About the steward?” She tugs her braid, wrapping it around itself in a bun. It falls when she lets it go.

Jongin shrugs. “It _was_ rude and a stupid stunt to pull at work, but… I deserved it. It’s fine.” He smiles. It becomes a yawn, and he groans. “It’s too late for anything work-related, anyway, so forget about it. Once we check in, just go to bed.” His head strikes the window with a dull thud.

“Alright. There’s nothing tomorrow except for your hair appointment in the afternoon.”

“Good. Don’t bother waking me up until then.”

He walks Jennie to her room and barely makes it to his own. Once the door closes, he leaves his shoes, luggage, and shirt in a trail to the bed. Throwing the covers aside, he drops onto the mattress, sinks in, and can’t fall asleep.

There’s a weird giddiness that he hasn’t felt in a few years. Since college-ish. Fishing his phone from his pocket, he opens a text window and messages Kyungsoo, who replies within minutes.

They set a date for a late breakfast—closer to lunch time—in Jongin’s hotel.

Anxious energy transformed into anticipatory energy, Jongin rolls onto his back and pulls a pillow over his face to block out the light from the rising sun.

Later that morning, Kyungsoo appears outside his room looking like any other day. Jongin’s jealous.

“You look gorgeous.”

Jongin leaves the door for Kyungsoo to let himself inside. He reaches his arms over his head, enjoying the stretch of his aching muscles, and flops back onto the bed. “Do they teach you guys how to fake wakefulness?”

“I’ve had three cups of black coffee since waking up. I’m ready for a marathon.”

“That sounds like enough coffee for one day, then. I’ll order tea.” Kyungsoo shrugs and opens the sliding glass door to stand on the balcony.

It’s a decent view of the city. He can see his own hotel and the airport. The water is on the other side of the hotel, but there’s a charm to metropolis, too. Cars move like a single-minded engine. Scooters and bikes weave among them, and groups of pedestrians flock on corners like pigeons.

Jongin finishes placing a room service order and joins Kyungsoo outside. Goosebumps rise along his arms; summer is finally leaving.

“Don’t you still live in Seoul?” Kyungsoo asks. “Why are you in a hotel?”

“Convenience. We’re using the conference rooms here, and some clients flying in will be here, too, so it’s just easier.” He returns inside and heads to the bathroom to make himself more presentable. His mouth feels like there’s cotton and tastes like something died. Hopefully, Kyungsoo didn’t smell that.

“You’re not just lazy?”

“Not _just_ lazy…” he replies, words muffled around his toothbrush. He picks up his phone and wakes it up. “I miss my kids, though.”

“They’re still around?”

“Two of the three, anyway.” Kyungsoo takes the phone and flips through the album of poodles. Jongin spits a mouthful of froth into the sink and rinses his mouth. His voice bounces off the bathroom tiles. “I adopted a puppy a little while ago. She gets along great with the others, although they’re a bit too old to appreciate her puppy energy.”

“Those poor dogs,” Kyungsoo laughs. A razor buzzes, humming as it passes over Jongin’s cheeks and throat. It’s too noisy to talk over.

A knock on the door breaks his attention from snooping through Jongin’s phone, and Kyungsoo takes a heavy tray from a hotel worker. Breakfast and lunch foods fill the small round table in the corner of the room. Tea, juice, and sparkling water sit in an attractive arrangement of their own.

Jongin emerges and brings a waft of spicy aftershave. He doesn't have a baby face, exactly, but the lack of facial hair makes him appear younger, more like the boy Kyungsoo had met. The glasses add to the reminiscent look; he only wears them when his contacts bother his eyes.

He’s put a T-shirt on but hasn’t changed out of his bear and honey pajama pants. A heavy sigh comes from so deep that it carries a groan. “Oh, finally.”

“Are we hungry?” Kyungsoo teases. “There’s only two of us.”

“I’m starving,” Jongin states seriously.

“You haven’t even done anything to warrant being so hungry, yet.” Kyungsoo leans over the back of his chair and kisses his neck. The fine hairs stand on end.

“I didn’t realize this was a booty call.”

“I can still leave.”

Jongin catches his shirt and kisses him.

They remove their clothes in a frenzy. Kyungsoo falls on his back, Jongin over him, and he stops to breathe.

Kyungsoo slips them over quickly and confidently draws Jongin to hardness and rolls on a condom. He thoroughly prepares himself before taking his self-proclaimined throne, setting the pace so Jongin can’t predict anything but anticipates everything.

They finish with static under their skin and drums in their ribs. Kyungsoo flops bonelessly beside Jongin. The boss picks up his pajama pants as he goes to the bathroom to splash water on his face; sex always makes him sleepy.

They don’t say anything when Jongin returns with a warm, damp towel.

Neither mention staying or leaving. 

The food goes cold.

Their quiet reverie is interrupted by electronic beeping and the click of a lock disengaging. Kyungsoo and Jongin fumble and manage to drag the bedsheet over them and some of their clothes as the door swings open.

Jongin isn’t sure if it’s humanly possible to be any more red than he and Jennie, his poor secretary, are. Kyungsoo is blushing, too, but he’s also snickering and trying to hide it in Jongin’s shoulder.

“Oh, Jennie. You met briefly earlier, but this is Do Kyungsoo.” A beat, then, “We used to kinda date.”

“I-I remember.” She bows. “Excuse the intrusion, but I wanted to deliver your newspaper.” It’s wrinkled after being crushed in her hands.

“I would’ve come down to get it. Thank you, though. I’ll see you tonight for dinner.” She folds it and sets it beside the vase of unseasonal asters and daffodils. 

“Don’t forget about your appointment at two.” She leaves quickly, letting the door close on its own.

“What do you have at two?”

“Haircut. I’ve been putting it off, but she’s started implying that if I don’t go in soon, _she_ will cut my hair.”

Kyungsoo frowns a little, threading his fingers through Jongin’s hair. It’s not that long; he’s worn it longer, usually out of laziness. It looks good on him, though. Kyungsoo likes it longer.

“You know, it’s a good thing she came when she did,” Jongin remarks, pulling up a knee and crossing his legs. “Usually, she’s much earlier, and I forgot she always requests two keys for my rooms. Would’ve put on a show a little early in the morning.”

“Maybe she’d stop pining, then.”

“Why do you think she’s pining? She’s never said anything.”

“If she did, would you really believe her? Or would you think she’s sucking up to the boss?”

Jongin drops his legs and crosses his arms over his chest. Shaking his head, he says, “She’s not that kind of person. I honestly don’t think I’m her type, anyway.”

“Just in case, though, I’d better stake a claim.”

“What do you—” Jongin gasps as Kyungsoo kisses behind his left ear, biting and sucking sharply. He holds Jongin in place with an arm, ending his assault with an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

“There.”

“Hyung!” He sits up and pulls his hair from his neck, looking at himself in the mirror. A bright pink kiss mark sits boldly beneath his hairline. “What are we, teenagers? I can’t work like this!”

“Why not? You’re the boss, now.” Kyungsoo sits up, chin on Jongin’s shoulder and looks at their reflection. “I could make the other side match, if you want.” His fingers creep over Jongin’s sides; he flinches and tucks his elbows in. “Also, it’ll go away soon enough. And your hair hides it, now.”

Jongin texts his barber to cancel his appointment.

Kyungsoo tries to reach the other side of his neck but is pinned down and laughs at the kisses left over his cheeks, mouth, and jaw. He smacks Jongin’s arm when a mark is left on his throat, too high to be covered by his uniform.

“You know, I could probably be arrested for this some countries.”

“I’d bail you out.”

Kyungsoo rubs the corner of his mouth, catching a couple chuckles. It’s been a while since he’s felt so relaxed. He loves his job, and he’s met a lot of different people and experienced different cultures. Home hasn’t felt as welcoming in a while, though.

Letting his arms fall, he hurts his neck a bit trying to look at Jongin without getting up. “If this is only a casual, once-in-a-while thing, that’s fine by me. I just need to know.” Once upon a time, around college-ish, they agreed that long-distance wasn’t something they wanted to do. He’s a bit more open to it, now, after a few years of distance and adjusting his life and expectations to being on call and travelling for a living.

As boss, Jongin has both more time and less time available. He has more opportunities to hand off some workload to a subordinate but also has an entire company to oversee, one that works around the clock across the globe. Late night calls aren’t uncommon when he has a meeting with a client on the other side of the world.

“The last couple times we met, we didn’t really talk.” Over dinner, they’d chat about the city or tourist trap spots to check out before moving on. It wasn’t a chance to discuss themselves. “I admit I regret that, because I’ve been in love with you since before we broke up.” As the saying goes, _Distance makes the heart grow fonder_, which Kyungsoo isn’t sure about, but distance did make him miss Jongin a lot and wish he could share his travels with him. He could’ve called or texted or something, but he didn’t want to bother Jongin as he got on his feet as an apprentice, a master, and then dealing with his father’s death and taking over a company built by the man for over forty years.

Jongin has never been good with words, not when it came to expressing his feelings, and that’s why he pursued art. Pictures told more than he could say. 

He doesn’t have any pictures now, though, and doesn’t know what to say.

He knows what he wants, though. He’s wanted the same thing for a long time.

“So what are we doing?” Kyungsoo asks. “Now that we’ve laid our vulnerables out here.”

“You mean _vulnerabilities_?” Jongin catches Kyungsoo’s wandering eyes and reaches for the bedsheet, casually pulling it more firmly over his lap.

“I just want to know what we’re doing. I love you, and I love having sex with you, but if that’s all we have time or motivation for, I gotta know now.” Dancing around ‘maybes’ doesn’t seem plausible, now. In their teens and twenties, it was like they had infinite time to figure things out. The world would pause and let them just be _them_.

Jongin sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Rubbing his neck, he settles his chin in his hand. He’s blushing; he can feel it, but he doesn’t want to show Kyungsoo. It’s embarrassing to be so flustered. He was always under the impression that adults entering middle age and beyond were unflappable and had everything planned out. The older he gets, the more he realizes that is completely false. He’s just as awkward and emotional now as he was when he was a kid.

“Jongin…” Kyungsoo scoots to sit behind him, hooking his chin over Jongin’s shoulder. His back feels cold, with Jongin’s body heat warming his front. “I want to give this a try. We’re steadily employed, somewhat fully-functioning adults. Capable of big decisions and facing repercussions. You’re even the boss; who can say anything against that?”

“_You_ could. I have a feeling you’ll nag.”

“Well, you’re not the boss of me, so.” He shrugs. “Do you need time to think about it?”

Jongin shakes his head, turning around and bullying Kyungsoo until he lays down, partly lying on top of him. “I’ve been in love with you since forever. I want a future with you rather than around your schedule and my work.” Kyungsoo runs his fingers through his hair. Jongin sighs and closes his eyes. “I can’t promise marriage or anything anytime soon…” There’s no rush. Together, it still feels like the world will wait for them.

He shuffles closer, shifting so they’re eye to eye. He flinches and laughs when Kyungsoo’s toes touch his shin; they’re cold. He’s always had cold feet, and Jongin’s always been so warm.

Kyungsoo hooks a leg over Jongin’s with a cheeky grin. “I finally have you again. I’m not letting you get away so easily.”

Words don’t come easy, but they’re more willing to try than to rely just on physical communication. They’ve already bared themselves, literally and figuratively, and as the sun angles shallower in the room, the distant knots in their relationship start to untangle and rewind themselves closer and firmer than before.


End file.
